So I wasn't the only one

When people ask what I do at work, I can tell them I help mentally challenged people stalk celebrities. How can I not like this job?

O to be in England

Yesterday was M. Defarge's birthday. To celebrate, we ventured out with our umbrellas to Hopleaf for mussels and frites and Belgian beer. Then we topped it off with homemade pie and ice cream and a couple of episodes of Gavin and Stacey. Between the weather, the mussels (reminiscent the ones we had at Belgo Centraal in Covent Garden), and the British TV, I'm feeling very ready for another European vacation! I just don't think Georgia in July is going to be quite the same.

Tomorrow: Locusts

The sun is shining and my home computer is not displaying a blue screen of death. Neither of these things has occurred all week, and now they're both happening at once. I honestly agonized over the choice. The computer won (obviously), but I'm going to be really unhappy if it's raining when I finish this.

Between the weather and various technological woes, I'm beginning to feel like a cross between Eeyore and the Biblical Egyptians. Every day brings rain, cold, or both. My computer at work is being attacked by 24 separate viruses, if you believe the misspelled popups that constantly appear. Our home computer has some kind of memory issue that results in deadly blue screens with phrases like "persistent memory dump." My allergies and non-asthma are on overdrive.

It's probably been a good thing that my blog and email access have been curtailed, because I've been alternating between melancholy and homicidal. Woe to the student who crosses my path this week. I hate every book I've read lately and am critical of every newspaper article. Someone I disliked in high school friended me on Facebook and had the nerve to describe her awesome job in her profile; not only did I delete her request, but I was depressed about my own career for a week. When a rumor circulated that our accreditation visit was going to coincide with my vacation time, I stomped around threatening under my breath about quitting.

It's fucking June, universe! I cannot be held responsible for anything I say or do during a multi-day stretch of rain and clouds.

But for the moment, it's sunny (if 55 degrees) and my computer has not yet given up the ghost. This weekend is Printer's Row, and I have tickets to see Dave Eggers and Joseph O'Neill. If we can string together more than two days without rain, I may be persuaded that the apocalypse is not around the corner after all. But let's not get too optimistic yet.